But she wasn’t playing. All she seemed to be doing was staring out, looking for something or someone.
“I’m right here, my sweet Angel. I’m always here.”
Her fingers wiped under her eyes, and I narrowed my gaze in my dark bedroom to get a better look at her. Was she crying? She used the hem of her pink tank top to wipe her face now. She was crying.
“Why, Angel? Please, no. Your tears are so precious. Is it because you miss me? I know. I miss you, too. But not for long, my beautiful girl. We’ll be together soon enough, and we’ll always be together. Nothing will ever come between us.”
Her hand moved to the top of her shoulder, feeling where my chin had rested. I smiled. She was thinking about me. She was missing me. Her fingers moved up to the side of her neck and back down to her shoulder, as if she was remembering the feeling of my skin on hers.
Her fingertips drifted along her collarbone and slowly, sensually, slid down her—
I tore my gaze away and stared at the blank walls. The demons in my head tugged hard at my forbidden desires, begging me to watch what I, what no man should ever watch. I knew I’d kill anyone who would.
She’s not a child. She’s almost seventeen.
You said yourself you could marry her right now, and it’d be legal.
Your mother had you when she was sixteen.
Your late wife was Angel’s age when you married her.
It’s not like she belongs to someone else. She’s yours, so go ahead and—
Squeezing my eyes shut, I groaned and practically ran outside of the room before I did something I’d never forgive myself for. This was the first time I’d ever seen her do something...womanly. My sweet, innocent, pure girl was no longer a girl. “But I’m not a fucking pervert.”
Yes, you are. You’re a fucking stalker. You’ve been stalking her since she was fucking twelve.
“To protect her. I’ve never once—” I cursed and stormed toward the minibar. Then I poured myself some prosecco. “If my Angel wants to…touch herself…thinking of me,” a delightful, smug feeling washed over me, “that’s her business. She has needs.” Needs only I would satisfy. Now if I’d been young and free like she was. But I wasn’t, and we had to fucking wait.
If she’d been any other girl, if her prick of a father hadn’t brutally hurt her, mentally scarring her for life, I’d have just taken her without giving a single fuck, giving her everything she ever needed or wanted as long as we both fucking lived.
My eyes betrayed me and stole a glance at the windows. I could still see her room from the hall. My Angel was in bed now with the lights on, and by the way her body moved, there was no doubt what she was doing under the sheets.
I swore and downed my drink. “I’m gonna need something stronger than that.” And I was definitely going in first thing in the morning, taking all the clothes she was wearing now before she got a chance to wash them.
A buzz snatched me out of my thoughts. A text message from one of my bodyguards letting me know my son was here. I went to the door and saw my son in the security panel camera. Then I punched in the code and buzzed him in.
My arms wide open, I smiled. “Piccolo.”
“Ugh.” He rolled his eyes but hugged me. “Old man.”
I slugged him on the back, and then subtly searched him for guns, hoping he’d fucking listen and walk with one. “I’m only thirty-seven, and why the hell aren’t you packing?”
“Because I’m not a made man, remember? I’m piccolo,” he taunted as he sauntered inside.
“This isn’t funny, Leo. I have enemies, and you’re my only son. They can hurt you to get to me. How are you gonna defend yourself? You won’t even have your own bodyguards.”
“I’m sure the ones you appointed to follow me around anyway will take care of the job.” The fucker winked at me, sinking in the couch, rolling his arms around its back without a care.
I returned to the bar and poured us some drinks. Bourbon—his favorite—for him, and whiskey for me. I put his drink on the coffee table and sipped from mine as I sat across from him.
“I’m not old enough to drink,” he mocked.
As if he hadn’t been for years? “You’re fucking eighteen. That’s old enough to do many things. I married your mamma when I was eighteen, already top of my crew—”
“Dad, please. Can we for once not have the Mob talk every time I visit?”
“Why the fuck not?”
“’Cause it’ll lead to the Mom talk,” he said as a warning, “and we’ll both be upset.”
My eyes narrowed at him, my jaws clenching. His dark blue eyes held mine in a dare. I took in his face that I’d missed for months. My own son was the spitting image of me, but he was doing everything in his power not to be like me.
He was, though. In so many ways. He just didn’t want to admit it.
Violin music streamed in, and my heart immediately banged, dancing to my sweet Angel’s melody. My lips twitched with a smile as I turned my gaze toward the window.
“That’s nice. Where’s it coming from?” Leo asked.
Reflexively, protectively, I rose, and then I gave him my back to block the view before he found out. I didn’t want him to see her. I didn’t want him to listen. I didn’t want anybody to see her or listen. She was mine, and the music she was playing now was for me. After she thought about me while she pleasured herself. Only me.
“A little girl in the opposite building. She’s good.” She was a lot more than good, and she was no longer a little girl, but he didn’t have to know that.
“She is. Does she play every night?”
“Not every night.” But I hoped she would.
“Is that why you rented this place? To listen to free music whenever she did?”
I froze for a second. Then I spun, meeting his eyes, reading him. Was that a simple joke or was he trying to drag words out of my mouth? Did he know or suspect anything about me and Angel?
He chuckled. “I mean, look at this place. City line view. Free show. If I had your money, I’d do the same just for those.”
“You know damn well you can have my money and more if you want to, but enough of that talk.” I took another sip from my whiskey. “Since when do you like classical music, Leo?”
“Since now.” He winked. “Is she pretty?”
My face burned with rage. My hand clenched around the glass, almost shattering it. “Who?”
“The little girl with the violin.”
“The fuck I know? She’s little.”
“For you, old man, but probably not for me.” He squinted playfully, cupping the air in front of his chest as if it were tits. “How little are we talking about here?”
Brutto stronzo! I forced a smile on my face when all I wanted was to punch him speechless. I loved him to death, but talking about my girl like she was a piece of meat, talking about my girl at all, even from him, simmered my blood. If he was someone else, he’d be missing, at least, a tongue now. “Speaking of little girls, are you with anyone?”
“Not really. I mean…nothing serious.”
With Leo, that was always a good thing. When things got serious, he… I pushed away the memory of how he ended things with his last girlfriend. “Allora, when are you gonna announce your engagement to Claudia? The Lanzas are waiting for you to set a date.”